


I Forget How to Begin It

by RetroactiveCon



Series: Praying That It'll Be You [5]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Past Hartley Rathaway/Eobard Thawne | Harrison Wells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:00:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21688750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroactiveCon/pseuds/RetroactiveCon
Summary: If Hartley had thought about it, he would not have expected their first kiss to be like this.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Hartley Rathaway
Series: Praying That It'll Be You [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1562548
Comments: 8
Kudos: 125





	I Forget How to Begin It

**Author's Note:**

> So for those of you who've read the other parts of the series, this might seem a little abrupt. A lot of processing happens in the first couple of paragraphs to get Barry and Hartley to this point, and they have a lot still to do that will come up in later fics.
> 
> The title is taken from Rent's "I Should Tell You."

If Hartley had thought about it, he would not have expected their first kiss to be like this. 

He might have expected it to be another way of comforting each other. They talk—hesitantly, haltingly—about faux-Wells and his manipulations. Sometimes they grow angry. Sometimes they cry. Sometimes Hartley looks at Barry, his mouth set in a sorrowful line and his eyes full of fathomless pain, and wants to kiss him. He never does. Sometimes Barry lays a hand on his arm, soft and comforting, and looks at him as though he’s not worthless or disgusting, and Hartley wonders if he wants to kiss him. He never does. 

He might have expected it to be after a mission. If the mission was short, one of those jaunts that leave Barry with more energy than he manages to burn off, it would be a jubilant kiss. Barry might start it, so exhilarated from running that he can’t help himself. Hartley might start it, because Barry is breathtaking after those missions, all tousled hair and flushed cheeks and lit-up gleeful eyes. If the mission was long and dangerous, either of them might start it, relieved and frightened and possessive—Hartley because Barry is reckless, throwing himself into danger as though he’s invincible rather than fast; Barry because he thinks of Hartley as fragile, delicate, for lack of an accelerated healing ability. 

He might have expected it to be because of meta meddling. They haven’t encountered a meta with an ability that would make them kiss, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one. (This was, admittedly, the most far-fetched of Hartley’s theories. If it never happens, he’ll count them both lucky.)

He didn’t expect it to be quite so mundane, but it is. He’s clattering around his lab, trying to find a way to compact his sonic gauntlets into a less bulky design, while Barry watches. They’re quibbling good-naturedly until Barry yells, “Look out!” 

It’s a timely warning. The circuit Hartley has just completed lets out a high-pitched whine and a shower of sparks. He drops it back onto the lab bench, grabs the nearest fire blanket, and smothers it. “No, no, no…”

When the circuit ceases to smoke, Hartley is tempted to smack it off the lab bench in a fit of pique. Barry’s laughter stays his hand. “I’m glad you’re amused.”

“I’m sorry,” Barry says. He looks truly contrite, but he can’t suppress little giggly aftershocks that leave his shoulders shaking and his eyes alight. “It was funny, though. Mostly because I’ve done that myself.” 

The failure, however small, still stings. With anyone else, Hartley would lash out. The sincerity of Barry’s confession eases his wrath. “Here?”

“No, at CCPD.” Barry runs a hand through his hair and smiles shyly. “Here I just fly off treadmills and run into walls.” 

Hartley’s irritated thoughts turn to static when confronted with Barry’s self-deprecating grin and laughter-bright eyes. He thinks he says something like “God, you’re adorable,” and then they’re kissing. It’s not a long or deep kiss; it’s a quick press of lips that does nothing to clear the remnants of static from Hartley’s brain. 

There’s an electric _z-zip_ and a clatter. Upon opening his eyes, Hartley sees why: Barry ran himself into the nearest lab bench. He’s braced unsteadily against it, splayed out and breathless as though Hartley has done significantly more than kiss him. “Uh, sorry,” he says. “I haven’t had that happen before.”

“Did I startle you?” He keeps his tone light although the question is serious. 

“Uh, yeah, a little.” Barry raises a hand to his lips. Sparks jump between his fingertips and his lips, like he’s completing a circuit of his own. “Not—not bad startled, though. It just felt good, like a runner’s high, and then my powers kinda went haywire, and can we do that again, please? This time without my powers freaking out?”

“Your powers are entirely up to you.” Hartley steps closer and brushes his fingers through Barry’s hair. Barry’s lips part around a near-soundless gasp, his eyes darting between Hartley’s eyes and his lips. “But as for your first inquiry, a scientist never tests something only once…”

The second kiss is marginally deeper than the first and far lazier. Hartley mouths at Barry’s lower lip, tugging and teasing but not biting. Barry seems unsure what to do with his hands, keeping them awkwardly at chest height until Hartley guides them to his waist. 

When they part, Hartley feels slow and soft as though he’s just woken up. It’s a strangely vulnerable feeling that he’s not sure he likes, and save for the dreamy rapture on Barry’s face, he might retreat. Because Barry so obviously feels the same way, he lingers. “Good?”

“Uh-huh.” Barry beams at him, his eyes only half-focused. “I want to run, but I also want to kiss again and…”

What he’s decided, Hartley never finds out. At this very moment, the sprinklers overhead activate, dousing them both with icy water. When he turns around to see why, the troublesome circuit has begun once more to smoke. 

“I should let you deal with that,” Barry mumbles. 

“Yes.” Hartley takes off his glasses and scowls at the water-beaded lenses. There’s no point wiping them clean—they’ll get wet again until he manages to put the fire out. “You should.”

Impulsively, he turns and gives Barry another peck on the lips. It’s damp and unimpressive, but it serves his purpose. Barry rocks happily side to side and darts away. Hartley has turned back to the smoldering circuit when an almighty thunk alerts him that Barry has run into a wall. 

“Adorable,” he murmurs under his breath, and reaches for the fire blanket.


End file.
